


Unconventional

by AutumnDreams



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Picnic, Rumbelle Christmas in July, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2017, Storybrooke, Sunlight, summer time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 17:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11582802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnDreams/pseuds/AutumnDreams
Summary: If their first date had been unconventional, their second would be one for the history books. It had been eight months since their chance meeting over the arms of theatre seats, and while they had spent many of hours together in the time since, they had not officially gone on a second date.





	Unconventional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlgonnafly on Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=girlgonnafly+on+Tumblr).



> This little story is for girlgonnafly on Tumblr as a Christmas in July fic. She prompted for Photography, Sunshine, Summer Thunderstorm, and Music which is a lot harder then it initially looks! I loved the challenge though and hope she enjoys.

If their first date had been unconventional, their second would be one for the history books. It had been eight months since their chance meeting over the arms of theatre seats, and while they had spent many of hours together in the time since, they had not officially gone on a second date. Not officially at least. What there had been was three kisses; _mostly_ proper; and an unknown amount of accidental hand brushes and lingering glances.

Nothing more.

Remington Gold was ready for that to change. And there was no better time than during the evening concert at the Storybrooke Day celebration featuring Storybrooke High School’s Orchestra. It was, after all, because of the Bangor Symphony Orchestra that he and Belle had gone from residents in the same town to friends and something more. He eyed the plush quilt spread across the grass, the large pillows he had requested for their mutual comfort stacked to form a makeshift sofa, and nodded. They were sequestered high on the hill overlooking the stage, the dense woods behind them to offer an illusion of privacy. Most in the town would settle directly in the large field facing the stage, awaiting the show, but he knew they would be scrutinized if they mingled with the others.

_“How can she stand to be around him?”_

_“You know she’s just after him for his money, right?”_

_“He’s blackmailing her for sex.”_

_“Her father traded her to him in exchange for Gold forgiving a large loan.”_

Those were just some of the rumors they had heard over the months, always whispered behind their backs. ‘Or,’ he thought, looking down at the townspeople below, ‘stage whispered behind their backs.’ It wasn’t that he cared what the opinion of those living in the town was – he never had – but he knew that their talking bothered Belle. She tried to put on a brave face and pretend it didn’t matter, but it did. _That_ bothered _him_. Especially when the pious women shunned her in her own library, turning their noses to the air and declaring that they could no longer frequent her establishment.

Like any of those women had room to talk.

No matter – she was better than any in the town.

Focusing back on his preparations, Gold was pleased to see everything was as planned. The corners of the thick quilt were held down by large citronella candles, all lit to keep the bugs of Maine away. A bottle of sparkling fruit water sat chilling in a bucket of ice; no breaking the non-consumption in public venues laws for them; while a dinner of Granny’s hamburgers and fries stayed warm in the insulated bag. Sunlight filtered through the trees, bathing the entire setup in its golden glow, the final touch on the mood he was trying to set.

“Rem?”

The soft voice pulls him from his thoughts and he turns, his grip on his cane tightening. A smile fills his face – the one he has for _only_ her – as his eyes settle on her. The bouncy chestnut curls framing porcelain skin, cerulean eyes sparkling in happiness, crimson lips turned up in a large grin – all are what he sees first. “Belle,” he breathes, stepping towards her, his free hand reaching for hers. “You look beautiful dearest.”

And she does in a navy and cream floral dress, a pair of matching flats on her feet. Lifting her hand, he leans forward, pressing his lips against the warm skin they find. She blushes; one of the many things he loves about her; as he straightens, her hand still resting in his. This he uses to pull her forward, her body pressing lightly into his. His “hello” is a mutter as he leans down, capturing her lips with his in the softest of kisses.

“Hello,” is her reply, that grin of hers still filling her face. She steps back to peak around his arm, her hand still held in his, her eyes taking in his setup for the first time. “Rem,” she gasps, her eyes moving back to his, “it’s beautiful – but entirely too much.”

“Nonsense,” though his voice is firm, the smile is still upon his face, “nothing is too much for you.” He leads her to their blanket for the evening, never letting go of her hand until she’s seated comfortably against the mountain of pillows. It’s only then that he awkwardly lowers himself to the ground, always mindful of the ankle that troubles him.

“You spoil me,” but she’s still grinning as she reaches out for his cane. Lying it on the grass beside them, she looks down at the crowds below, “though I can’t say I’m disappointed. You’ve picked a wonderful vantage point.”

He smiles, reaching out for the bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, he carefully poured the fizzing liquid into two wine glasses, setting the bottle back in the ice as he offered one to her.

“Oh,” she says, taking the glass from him. “Thank you.”

He nods, sipping at his own water. “I do wish I could offer you champagne but I fear Mayor Mills would undoubtedly find out and cause problems.”

“I like the water,” she takes a sip, loving the way the flavor of berries flows over her tongue. It’s crisp and refreshing in the summer heat. Leaning back into the pillows, she turns her head towards him, watching as he leans back beside her. “How was business?”

“Busy,” he muttered, sipping his own water, meeting her eyes over the rim. “The afternoon storms drove a lot of the out-of-towners into the stores downtown.” He sips again before setting the glass aside, reaching for her hand. “I did have an offer on the gramophone,” he says hesitantly, knowing how much she loves the piece.

Oh,” she’s mixed on how she feels about that. On one hand, she’s thrilled that he’s had a busy afternoon, but on the other, she loves the old record player. Many of evenings they’ve spent in the backroom of his shop, listening to old records as he worked on repairing an antique and she read. It’s silly, she knows, but it feels as though it’s part of them.

“I told them it wasn’t for sale.” He reaches out with a hand, brushing a finger along her cheek. “It’s ours.”

“Rem,” she breathes out, leaning forward to press her lips against his, touched beyond belief that he also thinks of it as theirs.

He smiles and reaches a hand into the pocket of his jacket. It’s not how he planned the night to go but as he looks down into her eyes, it feels right. “Belle,” he mutters, pulling back slightly to hold out an antique ring, “will you marry me?”

~R&B~

The town finds out the following Monday when a photograph appears in the Storybrooke Mirror announcing the engagement of Mr. Remington Gold and Ms. Belle French.

 


End file.
